


After Midnight

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, cinderella au -ish, even if you hate the fic pls still love wonhui, fluff (to a certain degree), i'm trying something new and hopefully it didn't turn out into a disaster, masquerade au, to jun's cinderella, wonwoo is the prince charming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: Wonwoo kisses a stranger at a fundraiser, but the mysterious man disappears at the stroke of midnight.(Or the one where WonHui meet at a masquerade ball)





	After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This was more of an experiment. And because of this pic: https://fyeahwonhui.tumblr.com/post/159440972849/170223-tokyo-fan-signing-love-letter-do-not
> 
> It made me crave a Masquerade AU, and for some reason, this is what my brain thought of.

Enchanting and classical music drifts softly through the large ballroom, interlaced with the low murmur of the crowd in attendance. The music and the muted gleam from the chandeliers act like a protective veil, keeping the words exchanged between these beautiful people secret. The same way the glimmering masks on their faces hide their true identities. It is a night of festivities for the wealthy to lose themselves in, disguised under the pretext of a fundraiser. For some, it means sharing gossip, while others enjoy showing off their prowess by competing and winning the various auctions throughout the night. Lastly comes the third and largest group, which takes advantage of the anonymity offered by their masks to seek pleasure and release without having to think of the consequences come the next morning’s sunrise.

With a sigh, Wonwoo reaches up to fix the mask covering half of his face. The gems lining the edges press into the pads of his thumb and forefinger as he struggles to make the covering sit more comfortably over his eyes. He hates wearing the stupid thing, but it’s one of the few rules these parties enforce, and he has no choice but to obey. The scene before him is so achingly boring, he takes another swig of the wine. He lets the alcohol numb his tongue to distract him from having to see yet another bidding war. At least his father will be happy with the funds collected. He just wishes the old man would show up to these events instead of forcing his own son to go.

“You look extra grumpy today,” Mingyu—the giant in the emerald mask—remarks, elbowing him in the ribs. “What’s wrong?”

Wonwoo shrugs, turning away from the stage to face his group of friends. “Nothing. Just bored out of my mind.”

Seungcheol laughs, causing light to reflect off of the onyx stones. “Maybe you should have hired entertainers.”

“Or you just need to drink more,” Jeonghan suggests with a sly smile, raising his own glass to his lips. “This,” he taps his own silver mask, “Should keep your face out of the headlines even if you do go a little too far. I know you have a reputation to keep, being the Dean’s son and all, but come on. Stop your grumpy act and have some fun!”

“Not exactly my idea of fun,” Wonwoo mutters, gaze skipping the older male to the desert table behind him. Maybe he can gorge himself on cakes and fall into a food coma. Then he can just wake up the next morning and move on with his life.

As the plan becomes increasingly more appealing, movement by the door catches his eye, and he glances up by reflex. 

Wonwoo freezes, gaze strained on the stranger entering the ballroom. 

Tall, slender frame, tapered waist, broad shoulders. From the way he tilts his head and marvels at the high ceiling and ornate decor, Wonwoo guesses this is his first time attending the Gala. He caries himself with confidence, his steps sure and certain as he walks further into the ballroom. There’s a particular innocent glee, however, that catches Wonwoo’s interest. That and the fact that he looks like a runway model. 

Not leaving the stranger in the black suit out of his sight, he elbows Mingyu, cutting the latter off mid-sentence. He ignores the disgruntled noise the younger makes as he asks, “Do you know who that is?”

“Who?” Anger forgotten, Mingyu tries to follow Wonwoo’s gaze.

“Black suit, blue mask.”

After a few seconds, Mingyu finds the subject of his interest. “Huh. Good question. I don’t think he’s ever been here.” The comment reinforces Wonwoo’s theory to be correct. “You can probably look him up on the roster, though.”

“Good idea.” Wonwoo pats him once on the shoulder and leaves the group. Curious questions are thrown toward him, but he answers none of them. He does hear Jeonghan wondering if he's finally going to have fun, and he rolls his eyes.

At the door, he asks the clerk to give him the ticket number of the newest arrival. He gets no objection, courtesy of his last name. He pockets the slip of paper to be looked up later. For now, he has to give in to his curiosity.

Wonwoo finds the newcomer alone by the refreshment tables, holding a glass of wine. He’s watching the items currently being auctioned off on stage. 

“Not a fan of crowds?”

The stranger turns around. The momentary surprise is quickly replaced by a grin, and Wonwoo is glad he has spoken to the stranger’s back, because  _wow._ If he had faced him directly, he’s not sure he could have sounded so suave.

“It’s just a little overwhelming,” the other replies. “I don’t usually frequent events like these.”

Wonwoo forces his stare away from the full lips to assess the man before him. Black hair slicked back reveals a godly forehead and sculpted brows. The blue mask hides the upper part of his face, showing only large, animated dark eyes, and a straight nose. Not for the first time, Wonwoo curses these blasted masks. There is something incredibly frustrating about the disguise, cloaking the wearer in mystery, but showing enough to tease tauntingly at what lies just underneath.

“Well, I’m glad you made an exception tonight,” Wonwoo says with a smirk, rounding the table to stand a couple feet away from the new guest.

The corners of the brunet’s mouth curl upward. “Are you talking about my company or my wallet?"

Wonwoo laughs, a genuine sound, not the polite squawk he is forced to make whenever one of his father’s friends talks to him. “I can assure you, it’s not the money that’s lacking here.”

The guest’s smile fades, turning wry as he looks out toward the crowd of wealthy elite, dressed in fancy suits and extravagant gowns. “No, I suppose not.”

Silence falls between them. Although it’s not really silent, considering the music and the chatter all around. But to Wonwoo, it feels like a chasm has opened up, and he’s desperate to mend it. He clears his throat, taking a step closer. 

“I’m aware that it might break protocol,” he starts, resulting in his companion looking over. “But may I know your name?" 

The stranger smirks. “I was under the impression that these masks would keep that very question from leaving the guests’ lips.”

The amusement in the other’s tone gives Wonwoo the confidence to continue. “Is that a no?”

A chuckle graces his ears, soft and entrancing. “Jun.”

“Jun,” Wonwoo repeats. “Is that your real name?”

“Until midnight, yes,” Jun smiles, and Wonwoo feels his heart hitch.

“Midnight,” he repeats. “Will you at least leave behind your shoe as a way for me to find you?”

He answers with a cheeky grin. “That’s under the assumption that I want you to find me.”

Taking the final steps, he comes to stand next to Jun. Their shoulders almost touching, he leans over to other’s ear, “Then I guess it’s up to me to convince you.”

 

 

“Is this… how…  you convince all your sponsors… to stay longer?” Jun gasps out in between kisses as Wonwoo backs him up toward the wall of a darkened hotel room. The party is still going downstairs, but Wonwoo couldn’t care less about the amount of funds raised, or whether one of his father’s acquaintances wanted to talk to him. All he wants right now is the man in front of him. To hell with everything else.

Of course he didn’t start the evening so desperate to kiss and suck every inch of Jun’s skin, but somewhere between the dancing and strolls in the hotel garden, they found themselves slipping away from the Gala and into the elevator. Wonwoo isn’t sure how he managed to get the room key out of his pocket and into the lock, but somehow, they staggered inside, mouths colliding, hands furiously groping and pulling.  

“Only the ones who plan on running off at the stroke of midnight,” he whispers against Jun’s heated skin now, nibbling his way up his neck and back to his lips. He cups the brunet’s face, angling it to deepen the kiss. His teeth graze at the soft bottom lip, eliciting a breathy moan. Jun’s fingers comb through Wonwoo’s hair, gripping it at the nape of his neck as the latter slips his tongue inside his mouth. 

“Mm,” another satisfied sigh escapes Jun’s lips as they break away, and he giggles, nestling close to Wonwoo’s neck. “I feel so special.” No sooner had the warm breath tickled Wonwoo, that he’s assaulted by Jun’s hot tongue licking upward to the base of his ear. He hisses, body shivering, causing the latter to laugh gleefully, bitting onto his earlobe. 

“Let’s take these stupid masks off,” he mutters, raising his hand to lift the blue cover over Jun’s face. But the other stops him, pulling his hand away, lacing their fingers together.

“You won’t like it once I take it off,” he pants, but his voice is soft, vulnerable and open.

Wonwoo shakes his head, stroking Jun's bottom lip with his thumb. “Let me be the judge of that.”

But the mysterious stranger refuses gently with a head shake, tiny smile playing on those pink lips. “Don’t shatter the illusion.” He winds his arms around Wonwoo’s neck. Not waiting for Wonwoo’s reply, he leans over and sucks on Wonwoo’s neck. He bites it sharply once, causing his willful victim to whimper. But he doesn’t stop; his tongue darts out to lick the edges of the wound, soothing away the pain. 

A different sound escapes Wonwoo’s lips, causing Jun to chuckle. As much as Wonwoo adores the sound, he’s not ready to let him get the upper hand.

Gripping him by the hips, he nudges his knee in between Jun’s legs. The laugh turns into a needy groan. The hands clutching his collar tighten. Jun’s head lolls back to rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder, breathing unevenly, blowing over Wonwoo’s collarbones. Slowly, as if initially hesitant, his hips start to move, rocking against the leg. The friction leads him to shutter, and Wonwoo captures his mouth again, tongues tangling and searching.

As he continues to plunder the brunet’s mouth, the latter brings a hand down to caress his thigh, each stroke moving closer to the juncture of his legs. But every time he thinks Jun will actually touch him, he pulls away, fingers dragging agonizingly slowly down his inner thigh. Only to repeat the onslaught once more. 

The silent room fills with wet moans and soft whimpers, second only to the sound of fabric rustling as frantic hands fumble to undo buttons and ties. Wonwoo shrugs off his suit jacket and yanks off the piece of satin around his collar as he watches Jun catch his breath, lips swollen and glistening. The sight is too tempting to resist, so he doesn't. He dives back in, nuzzling into Jun’s neck, pulling him flushed against his body. He inhales the smell of soap, cologne, and sweat, mouth trailing open-kisses along the skin, fingers doing quick work of the buttons. His lips brush against Jun’s pulse point, and he latches on, grinning wide when he feels it accelerating.

On his shoulders, Jun’s hands flatten and curl up in response to his ministration, urging him on. When he reaches a particular spot along his jaw, Jun lets out a sharp hiss, followed by a tiny whimper. Wonwoo smiles in triumph, returning to the spot again and again to repay him for his torturous teasing. 

The last button comes undone, and he slides his hands under the cotton undershirt. Jun sucks in a breath when his hands come in contact with the slender muscles. Wonwoo returns to kissing his lips, palms roaming his torso. 

Not to be outdone, Jun racks his nails down Wonwoo’s clothed back, making the latter arch and moan into his mouth. He feels the brunet smiling into their kiss, as he grabs the shirt and pulls it out of Wonwoo’s slacks. Wonwoo barely has time to register the cooler air blowing against his hot skin that Jun slides his hands under the layers. His long fingers explore Wonwoo’s back and sides, lingering feather-soft touches along his waistband, achingly close to his groin, but not nearly close enough.

“You’re not playing nice,” he growls at the base of Jun’s throat, sucking on the defined collarbones. The other chuckles lightly in response. The sound makes Wonwoo smile despite himself, and he almost forgets about the growing tightness of his pants. Almost.

“Should I apologize?” the brunet asks with an audible smirk.

Straightening up, Wonwoo presses their foreheads together, noses brushing, erratic breaths fanning against their cheeks. He stares at Jun's smug expression, unhidden by the mask. “No, you should continue what you started.” He takes the other’s hand from around his back and guides it to his erection.

A brow arches. Fingers probe. “I wasn’t aware I started this.”

“You did,” Wonwoo accuses, wincing when the other bites his lip and slowly strokes him over his pants. “The moment you set foot inside the ballroom.”

A flash of genuine surprise crosses Jun’s face; his hand stops. Wonwoo almost cries out in frustration from the loss of delicious friction. Jun wets his lips and opens his mouth, ready to reply. 

But at that moment, a phone goes off, startling both of them apart. It’s Jun’s phone, and it’s not a call.

“It’s midnight,” he announces, glancing at Wonwoo’s stunned expression. He moves quickly, agitated as he apologizes and picks up his jacket from the floor. “I’m really sorry, I have to go.”

Reacting on instinct, Wonwoo grabs his arm. “Wait, what’s your name? How am I supposed to find you?”

Jun seems torn, his hand on the doorknob, his body facing Wonwoo. He watches the latter with a wounded expression, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Gently, he shakes his head and removes Wonwoo’s hand from his forearm. “I’m sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it sounds like thunder in Wonwoo’s ears.

The two share a tense moment, hearts hammering, fingers tingling. Then Jun steps forward and brushes his lips against Wonwoo’s. It’s soft and sweet, a chaste and innocent kiss. Nothing like the fiery and lustful exchange from earlier. Yet it floors Wonwoo. If it weren’t for Jun’s hand still holding his, he would collapse on the floor.

“Goodbye.”

He lets go. Wonwoo’s hand falls back to his side as the door to the room shuts with a click. It takes a minute for his brain to start up again, for the blood to redirect from his groin to the rest of his body. He lunges for the door, even though he knows it’s already too late. Jun, or whatever his real name is, must already have left the hotel. 

His foot kicks something, and the small object collides with the door. Curious, he drops to his haunches, using the light from the hallway to search in the hazy darkness for the source. After a few scans of the floor, something shiny catches his attention. 

A silver button. He fidgets with it, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips upward.

It’s not a glass slipper, but at least it’s something.

 

**_______________________________________**

 

According to the roster, the name of the ticker holder Jun used that night is Kwon Soonyoung. Although now that Wonwoo is looking at him, he is positive something went wrong somewhere. For one, Soonyoung looks nothing like Jun. Not even a mask would be able to alter someone’s appearance that drastically. Second, a mask can’t change someone’s height, either. He and Jun stood shoulder to shoulder, with maybe a few centimeters in difference. Soonyoung is a few  _inches_ shorter than Wonwoo.

Despite knowing Soonyoung isn’t Jun, he still decided to invite him to lunch today. Obviously, there’s a connection between the two, and Wonwoo is ready to treat him to lunch in exchange for some information. It’s taken them a couple weeks to meet up, because both have busy schedules, but luckily they successfully found a day that works for them. Since he has a couple afternoon classes, he chose a restaurant on campus. He knows his guest is also a fellow student, so it works out for both of them.

“Hey, thanks for meeting with me,” Wonwoo says politely when he arrives and sees Soonyoung sitting at one of the tables out front.

“Oh, no problem,” the other grins, eyes squinting. “You wanted to talk about some name mix-up or something, right?”

“Right. It’s kind of warm,” he notices. “Let’s find a table inside.”

“Sure.”

The two enter the establishment, and Wonwoo talks to the hostess. She picks up two menus and guides them to a table by the windows. While the two look over their menus, she returns with some water and jots down their drink choices.

“So,” Soonyoung smiles and folds his hands over the table. “Where did my name come up? I’ve been trying really hard to stay out of trouble, so having the Dean’s son call me out here is pretty intimidating.”

Wonwoo cracks a smile. “You’re not in trouble. Rather, I wanted to ask you for some information.”

“Information,” Soonyoung repeats, a little confused. “What sort of information? You’re not asking me to spy on my roommates or something, right? I don’t think I’d feel comfortable doing that to my peers.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo chuckles. Well, at least Soonyoung has a sense of humor. Maybe he can actually make a friend out of this strange ordeal. “No, nothing like that. First, do you know anyone named Jun?”

His lunch companion blinks. “Jun, you mean, Junhui? Wen Junhui? That’s the only ‘Jun’ I know.”

“Junhui,” Wonwoo mumbles, trying the name out on his tongue. He might like it more than Jun, he thinks idly. “Maybe,” he tells him. “Did you give you your ticket to —"

Their server arrives from behind Wonwoo, carrying a tray with their drinks. “I apologize for the wait, we’re a little short-staffed today.” He smiles apologetically, setting their glasses down on the table. 

Wonwoo mumbles a quick thanks, and starts to mix the sugar at the bottom of the lemon soda with the straw. He pulls the glass closer to him and takes a few sips, eyes flickering to Soonyoung as he addresses their server.

“Thanks, man,” Soonyoung says casually with a laugh, “And I told you, it’s weird when you get all formal with me.”

“Sorry,” the server says with a short chuckle. “Force of habit, besides you have company. Don’t make me lose my job,” he hisses, but it’s clear that he and Soonyoung are good friends. “I’m sorry, we’re being rude. Have you made your selections?”

Sensing the question is addressed to him, Wonwoo lifts his gaze from the condensation on the glass to look at their waiter. The words are at the tip of his tongue, but the moment they make eye contact, he freezes. His mind blanks out. He can’t remember his own name.

Those eyes, that nose, those lips.

_No way_.

What are the odds? Can he really be staring at the very boy he’s been thinking about for the past two weeks?

The Jun-lookalike is staring back at him with wide eyes, full lips parted in shock. That reaction alone is a very good sign, Wonwoo thinks. But he’s cautious, afraid of premature celebration. Besides, Jun ran away that night. There must be a reason, too.

Noticing the obvious change in the room’s mood, Soonyoung watches the two with furrowed brows. “Um,” he starts to say, addressing Wonwoo, but keeping his eye on his friend. “Actually, this is—“

“Sorry, I need to get back to the kitchen!” their server exclaims in a panic, grabbing the tray, and literally runs to the back.

“Dude!” Soonyoung shouts after him, but he’s already gone. “What the hell was that?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry, he’s kinda—Oh, wait.” His phone receives a text, and he pulls it out to read. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he shakes his head and types out a quick reply. “Yeah, sorry, Wonwoo.” He gestures toward the text. “He’s been… under the weather lately, ha ha ha…”

Wonwoo blinks, wondering if Soonyoung can tell how fake his laughter sounds. “Was that your friend Junhui?”

“What?! Who? Him?” His lunch companion starts to fidget in his seat, shaky hand reaching up to run through his dark hair, turning it into a bird’s nest. “No, he’s… uh… He’s Jerry!” His face breaks into a wide grin as he nods excessively. “Yep. Jerry, my strange, but sweet roommate. So, what do you want to eat?”

As if to block Wonwoo and his inevitable questions out, he picks up the menu and opens it, hiding behind the maroon leather. “Ooh, this looks good. Or maybe I should get the chicken. Beef? Hm…”

Wonwoo sighs, sipping on the straw. He can try to open Soonyoung’s mouth, but at this rate, he’ll only gain more frivolous and nonsense answers. No, he has to get them from the source. His eyes flicker to the door of the kitchen, expecting their server to return to take their orders. Unfortunately, the Jun-lookalike remains in hiding. Instead, a shorter guy with pink hair and a sour expression comes out. He visibly scowls when he sees Soonyoung, which bears no effect on the latter who almost jumps out of his seat upon seeing Pink-Haired Boy.

“Jihoon! I didn’t know you worked the lunch shift!”

“I don’t,” is all the shorter boy says, pulling a notepad and pen out. Heaving another sigh, he straightens out his shoulders and plasters on a friendly smile. “Have you made your selection?”

“Uh, sure,” Wonwoo responds, eyeing Soonyoung’s dejected face. 

“Okay, I’ll back shortly,” Jihoon says, turning on his heels after scribbling down their orders.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened in that kitchen. The Jun-lookalike probably begged Jihoon to take over his shift, which means he’s actively avoiding Wonwoo. More reasons to believe he’s found the right guy. 

He and Soonyoung soon enjoy their food, talking about everything except Jun, Junhui, or Jerry. At the end, he finds that despite his blatant lies about Jun, Soonyoung is a very fun and agreeable person to hang out with. They make plans to meet up some time, then Wonwoo pays for both of them, which Soonyoung doesn’t like very much, but agree on the condition that he would pay for their next time out.

Already with a plan in mind, he accompanies Soonyoung outside and walks down the block, before saying goodbye. Once he’s sure his lunch date is gone, he turns and speed-walks back to the restaurant, determined to get to the truth.

Their first server, Jerry, as Soonyoung called him, has returned to the main floor, cleaning up the table he had just occupied. As Wonwoo observes him from the doorway, he has no doubt it’s Jun. Or he has an identical twin. He signals for the hostess that he forgot his phone at his seat, and she nods for him to go in.

When he approaches, Junhui senses his presence and straightens out. The surprise is evident in his wide eyes, but at least he’s not running away again. The two stare at each other, studying their respective appearances in the light of day, out of the masks. Wonwoo isn’t sure what exactly is different about him, but there is a certain softness to his features. He still looks like he could walk down the runway at any moment, even wearing the work uniform. Yet he seems more… real. Less a fleeting dream or illusion.

For a second, Wonwoo wonders if that night even happened. Junhui doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would show up to a Gala under some else’s name and make out with a stranger in a dark hotel room. His cheeks are dusted pink, his movements clumsy. He can barely look at Wonwoo as he asks sheepishly, “Can I help you with something?”

Even his voice is timid, Wonwoo thinks.

“Um, yes, actually,” he clears his throat, not really sure how to approach this new development. “Have we… Have we met before?”  _That should be vague enough to be discussed in a public space, right?_

Junhui blinks. “We have, actually.”

Surprised, Wonwoo’s eyes widen. Elation stirs in his stomach. 

Until Junhui continues, “We were in the same organic chemistry lab, and you offered to pay me for my lab coat because you spilled sulfuric acid on yours.”

_Goddamnit!_

Wonwoo looks calm on the surface, but in his mind, he’s hitting his head against the wall. And the worst part is, he has no idea if what Junhui says is true. Everyone has to wear those awful lab goggles, which distort your view and fog up every five minutes. He complains about the Gala masks, but those goggles are ten times worst. He does faintly remember spilling the acid and asking the nearest person to trade lab coats, but whether that was Junhui or not, he can’t verify.

“Oh,” is what he manages to say. 

A millisecond of hope flashes before his eyes, when he catches the waiter smirking as he bends down to stack the empty plates. He’d recognize that smirk anywhere. He’d spent a good amount of that night committing it to memory, after all.

When Junhui attempts to leave, he moves to block his path. “Can’t be from lab,” he asserts, making the other pull back slightly. “Anywhere else?”

Junhui blinks, the tips of his ears reddening. “We have a lot of classes together,” he finally says. “That’s the only place we could’ve crossed paths.” He looks at Wonwoo pointedly then, as if to bar any other possible alternative, before side-stepping him and continuing to the kitchen. A few steps later, though, he turns and says, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think the person you’re searching for really exists.”

 

**_______________________________________**

 

Jeon Wonwoo is not a quitter. And he’s going to prove it to Jun, or Junhui, or Jerry, or whatever his real name is.

 

**_______________________________________**

 

On Monday morning, he heads off to his first lecture. It feels like the crack of dawn, even thought it's actually a few minutes before 9:00. Certainly, it's the earliest he's forced himself to get up, except for exam days. And to think it's all because of that frustratingly good-looking guy.  Upon entering the lecture hall, his eyes immediately scan the sea of seats, finding his target about a five rows from the front. Hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder, he walks down the steps and plops down in the chair on Junhui’s right, startling the brunet.

“‘Morning,” he says casually, pulling the side table up and over to set his notebook down.

“Um, hi,” Junhui responds hesitantly, watching him with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. His hands fidget with the long sleeves of his hoodie, turning them into sweater paws.

“You don’t have to get so tense,” he tells him, smiling innocently as he leans over their shared armrest, lips inches from the shell of Jun’s ear. “I don’t bite.” His grin widens when he sees the other flushing bright red, suppressing the small shudder racking his tall frame. 

Junhui slinks lower in his seat and presses his sleeved hands over his cheeks to cover them from view. When he hears Wonwoo’s chuckle, he looks over, brows furrowed, lips forming a pout. Which only causes the other’s smile to grow. “Stop that,” he hisses, although it sounds more like a whine.

“Stop what?” Wonwoo asks, feigning ignorance.

Junhui’s eyes narrow as he scrunches his nose. “You know what I mean.” His gaze very quickly dips toward Wonwoo’s collar, then away again. 

Undeterred by Junhui’s mood, he leans close again. “In case you’re wondering, it took about a week for the bruise to completely fade away.”

A tiny groan escapes the other as he bites down on his bottom lip, eyes squinting as if that would make him disappear. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses.

But Wonwoo merely shrugs. “I’m just saying… if the shoe fits.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Junhui squirm, and he continues. “Speaking of shoes, why do you think only Cinderella’s shoes remained, even though the spell only lasted until midnight? And why midnight of all things? Why not 1:00, or 11:00?”

With a heavy sigh, his own Cinderella turns to him, glaring with as much venom as a bunny. Wonwoo grins back, the picture of innocence. “What in the world makes you think I’d have the answer to those questions?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t know, you just seem like the type to suddenly appear out of nowhere, steal a few hearts, and then vanish.” He notices Junhui’s expression softening, shoulders slumped.

The previously noisy hall starts to simmer down now that the professor turns on the projector, and the first lecture slides appears on the large screen. Wonwoo looks around, not even aware of the students filling up the seats around them. The conversation between the boys are put on hold for now. Or so Wonwoo thought.

A few minutes into the introduction of the new chapter, he feels the sharp corner of a piece of paper poke his left hand. He glances down to find a note on his desk. The only possible sender has his eyes strained to the front, though, expression smooth except for his bottom lip caught under his teeth. A glimpse at his desk shows his fingers curling and smoothing out the corner of his notebook.

The rustling of paper is concealed by the professor’s voice through the speakers, and Wonwoo reads the two words written at the top.

_I’m sorry._

He peeks sideways at his neighbor, then scribbles down,  _You already said that._ Sliding the folded paper under Junhui’s hand, he watches from the corner of his eye the latter reading, then responding.

_It doesn’t make it less true. But to be fair, I did warn you._

Wonwoo scowls, tapping his pencil against his forearm. Junhui discretely looks his way, his hands twitching with the sleeves again.

_How about instead of an apology, you give me an explanation?_

This time, he waits for the response with bated breath. Not even the threat of the material being on the test for next week could make him pay attention. At last, the paper is returned to his desk with a single word:  _Okay._

The rest of the lecture drags on. Wonwoo isn’t sure if he wrote down any notes. His mind has switched over to autopilot after getting Junhui’s answer. When the professor finishes, and the students all around them begin to pack up, the sudden rise in volume prompts Wonwoo out of his daze. Junhui throws him a curious gaze as he stands up. In silence, they head outside with Wonwoo in front. 

As they start to exit the building, a thought occurs to him, and he spins around. The action is so sudden, Junhui almost crashes into him. Unapologetically, he reaches down and grabs Junhui’s wrist, then resumes the walk.

“You don’t have to do that,” Junhui says quietly behind him. “I’m not going to run away.”

Turning over his shoulder, he offers a wry smile. “Can you blame me for not taking any chances?”

Junhui sighs and shakes his head, letting himself be led toward the closest café without fuss. After ordering, they take their coffees outside and find an empty table in the back, away from prying eyes and wandering ears.

Wonwoo watches Junhui play with the straw wrapper with one hand, while the other mixes up the foam into the coffee. He’s not meeting his eyes as he starts talking.

“Soonyoung gave me the ticket and told me to go and have fun,” he snorts. “It was the first time I’d ever been to a function like that, and it was so mesmerizing. The music, the people, the atmosphere. Everything was so different from anything I’d experienced before. I was content just standing aside and watching, but then…” He glances up from his lashes, and Wonwoo swallows. “But then you approached me, and I panicked.”

“You panicked,” Wonwoo repeats skeptically. “You looked the farthest thing from panicked.”

Junhui laughs quietly, a little bashful, head titled to the side as he nods. “I can act pretty well when the need requires it,” he murmurs. 

Something cold squeezes Wonwoo’s chest, and he finds himself having difficulty breathing. Clearing his throat, he states, “So you were acting the whole night?”

Doe eyes shot up to meet his. “If you’re asking whether I pretended to like you, the answer is no.”

The tightness loosens, and he inhaled. 

“It’s just…” Junhui hesitates, looking for the words to explain. The hand that played with the paper comes up to tug at his lip. “With the masks, I saw a chance to become someone… else. Someone who would belong in that glittering world. Someone who could be with Jeon Wonwoo, even if it was only for one night.” At this, he looks up and stares straight into Wonwoo’s eyes.

“You knew who I was.”

A small smile crosses his lips. “You have a very distinctive voice.”

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to change colors. He looks away, grabbing his drink in an attempt to cool down. He hears Junhui laugh, and he forces himself not to react to the melodious sound.

“So that’s why you didn’t want to remove the mask,” he says instead, changing the subject. He remembers Jun’s—Junhui’s—soft voice in the darkness of that hotel room.  _“Don’t shatter the illusion.”_

In front of him, Junhui hums, sipping on the sugary drink. “We don’t belong in the same social circles. Jeon Wonwoo and Wen Junhui shouldn’t have met under those circumstances, but maybe it was okay for Wonwoo and Jun.” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth curling upward in a sad smile. “But we both know enchantments don’t last.”

“Not everything disappears after midnight, though,” Wonwoo retorts. As Junhui watches him with curiosity, he fishes inside his jeans pocket and brings out the silver button. He slides it across the table toward his companion. The latter widens his eyes, recognizing it. “You can’t pretend it was all just a dream, Junhui.”

The brunet looks away from the button to Wonwoo. “You do realize that Junhui is different from Jun, don’t you? You might not like the man under the mask as you think you would.”

“I told you,” he cups his hand over Junhui’s, squeezing it gently. “Let me be the judge of that.” When Junhui didn’t pull his hand away, Wonwoo continues with more certainty. “Let’s start with a date, a real date with just Junhui and Wonwoo.”

Hesitantly, Junhui lifts his thumb out from under Wonwoo’s grasp to stroke lightly at the latter’s hand.

“Is that a yes?”

A shy smile appears, along with a rose blush that Wonwoo starts to find completely endearing. Junhui nods, very fast. It's almost like he's too embarrassed to voice an answer. A matching grin blooms on Wonwoo’s face, and he spreads his fingers to knot them with Junhui’s, prompting the latter to look up from the their joined hands and into Wonwoo's eyes.

After a few seconds, Wonwoo reaches across the table and cups the other’s face, caressing his cheek, running his thumb along the skin around his vibrant eyes. It takes Junhui a second to realize that Wonwoo is touching the parts that the mask previously hid, and he chuckles, poking the other’s forehead playfully.

“What?” Wonwoo asks around a chuckle.

“You’re such a dork,” he teases, squinting his eyes and laughing.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” his companion retorts, but he’s laughing, too. “There’s something else I want to do, though.”

“What’s that?”

In answer, Wonwoo leans in and kisses him. Unlike Jun, Junhui is surprised and tentative when he kisses back, but Wonwoo finds that there’s something very genuine and innocent in his actions. No secrets, no games. Just two people sharing their feelings. It’s different, but a good different.

Kissing Jun, he saw fireworks and got drunk on lust.

Kissing Junhui is like finding his own anchor, a refuge in the storm.

When they separate, foreheads touching, Junhui flutters his eyes and grins, cheeks flushed. “You’re right,” he says, breath a little ragged. “Not everything disappears after midnight, but it still feels a little surreal.” 

Wonwoo laughs. “Guess I’ll have to convince you it’s all real.”

When he captures Junhui’s lips again, he feels the latter smiling into their kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooooo
> 
> If you made it all the way through the fic without throwing your phone out the window, THANK YOU. *ahem* Anyway, so it's pretty apparent that this fic is not in my usual [FLUFF FLUFF and MORE FLUFF + Dorky WonHui] style. Please let me know if it doesn't work. And I mean it. Yell at me and tell me to go back to writing Fluffy WonHui. It's ok, I won't be mad or sad. 
> 
> And if anyone thinks I should bump it up to an M-rating, tell me, too. I kept it Teen bc nothing actually happens... but anyway, just let me know if I should change it.
> 
> As always, thank you for sticking with me! You guys are the best! >.< All the love to you! <3


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